


I Don't Wanna Die

by A_lee_us



Series: American Tragedy [4]
Category: Hollywood Undead (Band)
Genre: Bad Ending, Betrayal, Cops, Crime, Dark, Death penalty, Drug Cartel, Drug Dealers AU, Gen, first-person narration, uncomfortable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 05:03:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13451130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_lee_us/pseuds/A_lee_us
Summary: Tiny things that people do will deeply affect others, whether it lights up their day or destroys their entire future.For me, I learnt how to destroy six lives in just one conversation.And this was how it went.





	I Don't Wanna Die

**Author's Note:**

> ATTENTION:  
> I have decided to write option C ("Love It, Hate It" from the end notes of Hear Me Now). THE PROBLEM IS: it is an explicit work. Throughout my planning, a few mature scenes popped up and I fully intend for them to be included into the story. However, I can't write 'smut' to fucking save my life so I'd really appreciate it if someone who has experience with writing R-rated scenes could lend me a hand and collab on the new work with me. I don't require much from them - just need the spine of a scene to be drabbled out. Please comment if you could help! It'd be extremely appreciated.
> 
> Did I just write an entire work just to put up the above notice? Yes, yes I fucking did. And it's 12:35 am here. Hooray.

It’s the simple things that matter, y’know?

Tiny things that people do will deeply affect others, whether it lights up their day or destroys their entire life.

For me, I learnt how to destroy six lives with in just one conversation.

And this was how it went.

 

-

 

There were seven of us. We dominated the streets of Los Angeles with our drug dealings. There wasn't a single addict who hadn't heard of us - The Undead. 

Coke, weed, ecstasy - we dealt them all.

We were drawing over $2,800 a day amongst just the seven of us; an insane amount - a figure larger than anything I'd have earned if I had bothered graduating and worked an mundane, brainless office job.

It was pathetic, really, watching the druggies shuffled up towards me in pubs and bars, begging for goods. It was even worse when they begged for more drugs when they were already failing to pay up for the previous three rounds. Sad, really. But it wasn't my problem. I wasn't their nanny or fairy godmother.

With the fair sum I earned each day, I raised my own lovely family. My darling wife Asia and I had the sweetest little daughter you'd ever meet. Ava was a bright child - blissful, happy and perfect in every single way. I was proud of my daughter, I truly was. I loved my family unconditionally, providing for them as best as I could.

Of course, Asia knew of my "job" but never commented. She appeared to assume that if she didn't assess it, it wasn't true. I left her to that.

My partners in crime included Jordon, Aron, Matt, Danny, Dylan and Jorel.

All of them were my brothers. I loved them, too, always thankful that I had them. After all, it was a team effort that we rose to our current status - earning more than I could have ever dreamed of.

And I was proud and happy for them, too. I was there when Danny got married to his sweet wife, Reese; and arranged many playdates between Ava and Scarlett once both were old enough. I clapped wildly and hard at Jorel's wedding. I encouraged Jordon to propose to Randi, his damn queen.

Matt had always been a little shy and insecure - and I was always there for him, encouraging him and supporting him.

Aron was a tough one, rock-hard on the outside, refusing to let others get under his skin. But I made sure he had his friends - like Yuma and Gadjet.

I was truly living the dream - rich and well-off, respected and feared on the streets, married with a lovely daughter, and surrounded by good long-time friends.

But of course, every bright and sunny day is followed by a gloomy and dark night. Everything has its end.

And I was forced to sell out my six best friends to protect myself and my family.

-

I don't know how. I truly don't know how but the metropolis police finally caught up on us.

The seven of us congregated in our safehouse - which was essentially a warehouse in the middle of a cargo district. The entire area had been dark, since it was late at night; the other warehouses completely silent, their occupants having had left for home once the sun kissed the horizon.

We stored the drugs in crates - stacked up neatly and orderly along the walls, all labelled clearly with black spray paint. Jordon had always been particular about "doing our shit right".

Our warehouse had been mostly dark and quiet too, save for the faint rustling of rats scampering about, and crickets chirping peacefully outside.

I had been lounging with Aron and Dylan at the table, playing poker. We had turned on a lamp - which shone brilliantly, battling against the deep blackness that surrounded. We were all leant back comfortably in our seats - Dylan's feet were propped on the table - and smoking or drinking as we played cards.

Aron was having a good streak - he had turned up with two pairs in the first round, followed by a full house in the second. Lucky bastard.

The whiskey had left me tipsy, lazy and just in the mood to kick back and relax. Asia and Ava were away at some Night-With-Mom camp in Ava's school and I had plenty of time to chill with the guys. Drinking was always fun - knocking back enough glasses to make the world swim and turn foreign and strange.

Jordon was also in the warehouse, though he was seated on the dirty, worn couch a few feet away, mumbling to himself as he counted the stacks of cash.

"I call," I had said, throwing down more money into the dish. Dylan followed and so did Aron. As it turned out, Dylan had gotten a straight and won.

None of us were prepared when there was a sudden blaring of sirens and the noisy whirling of chopper blades from above. My heart quite literally stopped when I heard them.

"Fucking run!" Aron yelled, kicking back the table and smashing the lamp - plunging the room into darkness once more. I couldn't see through the deep blackness but I could hear the frantic thumping of footsteps as my fellow friends made their escape, fleeing for the backdoor.

A policeman was speaking via a megaphone, crackling and whistling through the endless cacophony of the chopper's powerful whirling. A brilliant beam of light from the chopper swept over the building repeatedly.

My heart had been thumping violently in my chest. I had panicked and run, along with the rest. We were fucking screwed if we were caught: every drug dealer in the States knew that running drug empires would be labelled as 'treason' against the country, leading to capital punishment.

In simpler terms, the electric chair awaited us.

I couldn't tell what was louder - my heart slamming against my rib cage or my footsteps thumping against the ground. Whatever it was, we made it to the backdoor. Jorel - at least I thought it was him in the darkness - wrenched open the door and we spilled out into the open, dashing and dodging into the shadows of the nearby alleys.

There was a loud commotion and banging noises not far behind. The police had busted down the front door and were swarming into the warehouse.

All our goods. Damning evidence.

I had run, I had really tried to. But I simply wasn't fast enough. While the others had slipped into the darkness and safety of the alleyways, fleeing stealthily and quickly, I had been unfortunate enough to have a sudden flash of pain rip through my knee. I collapsed as it gave out.

Something had lodged itself there. A swipe of my hand at the offended region drew blood.

I had been shot. I was a heap on the floor, clutching my bleeding knee, desperately trying to staunch the wound as police officers with stunning flood lights swarmed me.

-

The police director spoke directly to me after I had been hauled in for questioning.

Leg bandaged but still sore and aching, I was handcuffed to the uncomfortable metal chair. The graying-haired male opposite me, in his late fifties, spoke sternly and softly. He carried a no-bullshit attitude and was unfazed as he explained how I could be charged and eventually be hung for the drug empire. I listened, cold, as he listed the charges that would be stacked against me.

I would most likely end up with the death penalty and the state would extract reparations from my name - meaning that they'd auction off my possessions.

My mind flew to Asia and Ava. My sweet, dear daughter had no idea what was going on. The truth would kill her - upset the entire perfect life that I had worked so hard to give her over the years. And Asia, God, she didn't hold a job, using her time to care for and raise Ava. Without me in the picture, my family would suffer and struggle. For many reasons, I knew that the law didn't quite give a shit.

Then, the director had offered me a deal.

There was evidence of other members of the cartel. It was quite obvious that I couldn't have had run The Undead alone and definitely had accomplices.

The deal was this: Turn in the other members and I'd walk away with the sole consequence of my name being added to the FBI watch list.

I was in a moral dilemma. Could I actually sell out my friends for my own survival?

Could I leave Scarlett fatherless, newly-wedded Vanessa widowed and Anna to care for her fucking piglet without Dylan? Could I send my brothers to their death and doom their loved ones to suffering and grief so that I could stay with my own whole, intact family?

I hate myself for it, and I would forever curse myself, but I made up my mind in less than ten minutes.

I desperately tried to justify it, tried to tell myself it was the right choice, it was okay, I was right.

 _The police might just find the rest anyway and we'll all die in the end._ I told myself.

 _It's not like Dylan, Jordon, Aron or Matt have children._ I whispered to myself.

 _Think about Ava's horrified face when the debtors come to collect furniture from her safe-haven of home._ I hissed at myself.

I declared my choice before I could change my mind.

The director nodded, pulling out a contract for me to sign.

In the next twenty minutes, the fastest, the longest, the worst third of an hour in my life, I had signed the death penalties of my best friends.

-

I didn't want to die.

So they had to.

In one conversation, I had sealed the deaths of six of my closest friends.

And do I regret it?

I th-

 

_**End.** _

**Author's Note:**

> Heh. This was my first attempt at a work in first-person.
> 
> Also, why the fuck have I written 169 pages worth of HU fanfics in 25 days. Someone take my laptop away from me.
> 
> Once again, if you can write smut scenes, please do contact me for I really do need help with it for "Love It, Hate It"!


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